


Transcending Madness

by phoenixjustice



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixjustice/pseuds/phoenixjustice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-TDK.</p><p>He lets out a long sigh, the Tumbler hurrying down the streets, the sounds of sirens fading until he could hear them, or the Joker, no longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transcending Madness

Prompt: #10: I blew the roof off a prison once, I knocked the walls down, so I could look at the stars. Why can't I make you go away? - Kelly Link

A/N: I am _very_ pleased with how this turned out; although I am rather surprised that it ended up in Bruce's POV, but I seem to gravitate toward it; not that I'm complaining, mind you. TDK has helped open a new avenue of inspiration and lovely, lovely fic out there. Here's my contribution. Enjoy! :P

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He sighs. It had been a long and trying week. Well, it always was, but the week he had just dealt with had been worse than usual. The Joker (after escaping Arkham for the second time in two weeks) had been even more active than usual. His first escape from Arkham came after he had been cut down by the SWAT team where Batman had left him and he had been in the Asylum for nearly a month before managing to escape; an orderly had been stupid enough to give into the Joker's request for a pen and some paper.

Hours later, an orderly who had come to take the next shift, had entered Joker's room and found the other orderly lying on the floor, his scrubs gone, eyes wide and a pen stuck deep into his throat.

Batman, as soon as the news had been broadcast about it, went to the rooftops where he met an agitated Gordon. Although technically the new commissioner was supposed to catch him if he ever came in contact with him, they were still working together, doing what they could to help each other catch the scum and other deviants out on the streets and clean Gotham up. After meeting with the Commissioner and learning what little facts the man had on the Joker's escape, he hurries off to the Tumbler (the second one, made by Lucius Fox who was continuing to act as CEO of Wayne Enterprises as Bruce had kept up his end of the bargain and the large scale sonar was destroyed) and scours the streets and less than reputal parts of town for the man.

There was no sign of him, nothing to show the clown was even still in Gotham. But Batman knew full well that he hadn't left town. He knew that as long as _he_ was still in Gotham, that the Joker wouldn't leave. It wasn't arrogance that made him think it, _know_ it; it was simple fact. The man had an unhealthy facination with him that he did his damndest to ignore.

Two days after the Joker's first escape, he finally managed to find him holed up in one of the seediest parts of town, in an rundown warehouse that he had been starting to fill with explosives with helps from some grunts in clown masks that he had somehow managed to acquire in such a short time.

The grunts had been made short work of, but the Joker hadn't been nearly so easy to subdue...

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The Joker's laughter echoed around the large, nearly empty, building, looking absolutely unconcerned about his unconscious goons on the floor. He and the other man circled around each other for a moment; one grim-faced and eyes serious, the other with a grin that went as far as possible, not counting his scars, and eyes bright with excitement.

"Time to give it up, Joker," Batman said gruffly. "All of your men are down. Give it up."

The man just giggles in response, grating on the Dark Knight's nerves.

"They a _re_ down, aren't they?" said the Joker giddily. "And you took them all out by yourself, Bats." His grin widens, showing a mouthful of yellowed teeth. "Quite a sight to behold, let me tell you."

All the while the Clown Prince spoke, the caped crusader was busy thinking of the best way to try and subdue the criminal, watching him closely all the while; the Joker was a dangerous man, after all.

Finally the Joker stops smiling.

"Come on, Batsy, say something." When he continues to remain silent, the Joker's expression darkens, showing a glimpse to the darkness inside of him, which was usually covered up by never ending smiles and laughter. " _Say something!_ "

The clown prince lunges for him, knife in hand. He gives him a solid punch to the clown's face and he topples to the ground, knife knocked out of his hand by the impact of the fall.

"Always the face! We've been over this, Batsy!" the Joker whined.

As the caped crusader moves to grab the criminal, the Joker pulls another knife from somewhere and manages to slice up his arm before Batman virtually sits down onto him to hold him down and subdue him. He looks into the man's vividly green eyes before quickly turning him over and holding him down with an arm, grabbing a pair of cuffs out of his utility belt and managing to shackle the squirming man down.

"Ooh, kinky Bats--" the clown's voice was muffled from where it was pushed up against the concrete.

"Shut up." He growled at the Joker. He knew that the police would be there soon; he had called them before he went to the warehouse where he knew the Joker was. He'd wait until they got just close enough before he left. Stay long enough to make sure that the clown be taken back to Arkham.

As dangerous as the criminal was, he had been declared insane by the State (well, with what the man had done, and the way he had acted up to this point, how could he be anything _but_ insane?) and Batman's own rule would keep him from doing the man in, no matter what havoc the man had caused. Even if he _had_ caused the deaths of Rachel and countless others; even if he _had_ broken Gotham's greatest; their White Knight, Harvey Dent and had turned him into a monster.

No, he would never give him the satisfaction, for that would mean that the Joker was right and they were more alike than he would want to admit. The Joker squirmed underneath him and was surprisingly well muscled; it wasn't a lot from what he could feel moving against him while he was holding the man down, but it was still there, a lithe kind of strength.

A sudden laugh from the Joker (who had gone surprisingly silent a few moments before) catches him off-guard. It sounded different too--not the same high-pitched maniacal giggles and laughs that had become a calling card all of their own--no, this was much quieter and huskier. It was a disturbing thing to hear, as it sounded much more human, coming out from something inhuman.

"If you're going to stay on top of me much longer, Batsy, then at least make it worth my while." the Joker purred, bucking up against Batman's Kevlar clad body. The caped crusader pulls back in disgust, ears filled with the Joker's usual laughter and he truly only notices the long cut on his arm (from where the Joker had cut him) bleeding onto the floor. Wounds that were not life threatening had been trained to be ignored until a more calm time when they could be treated.

All he could do for a moment was to stare at the laughing man as he moved this way and that way so he could turn over enough to look the Dark Knight directly into the eyes. He gets spared from whatever the madman was going to say next by the approaching sirens.

He takes that as his cue to leave and does so, ignoring the yelling from the Joker behind him. He absently runs at his injured arm, cursing the criminal under his breath, rubbing as hard as he dared at it, wanting the pain the cut should be giving to him, not the tingling feeling all over his body that he was feeling instead. That had to be the cause. Nothing else had happened, no other injuries...

He lets out a long sigh, the Tumbler hurrying down the streets, the sounds of sirens fading until he could hear them, or the Joker, no longer.

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The second time was days after he had captured the Joker in that warehouse and tied him up, leaving him for the police to handle. The Joker let his presence known two days after his escape from Arkham. With no sign or sound of the crazy man before that--with Batman's increasing frustration mounting--the Joker made his appearance to the Batman...and the rest of Gotham as well...

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Bruce glances at the paper, pushing around the oatmeal Alfred had put down for him moments earlier, looking for any sign of the Joker, but finding none, he throws the paper down in disgust. Nothing. Not one single thing about the Joker; a sighting, info on some of his shady dealings. Nothing. It was even more aggrevating because he had not been able to muscle anything out of the lowlife and crazies of Gotham that usually hovered around the clown prince of crime like moths to a flame. But even that had resulted in failure.

He deliberately did _not_ think of the anger that had coursed in his body at his continuing failure to find the criminal, the anger that had led him to use his fists at whatever lowlife that was in his way, and even when blood had been splashed onto the pavement and he ran away from the scene in horror at himself, the feeling inside of him did not go away.

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The general running of Wayne Enterprises was left to the board of directors and Lucius, who was the CEO; he only appeared sporatically to make an appearance when need be, when he actually wanted to check up on the money and such and how it was getting used, or when he needed something repaired or new from Lucius. The man was a very valuable asset and one which he did not want to lose as an ally, not only because the man knew his secrets and worked on things for him, but because he was a good man, one of the few left in Gotham that did not want money or things, the way others did. People like Lucius, and Alfred, were rare.

He knew that almost better than anyone.

The meeting he had left had been a long and tedious one; thankfully Lucius was there to take care of most of the specifics and he was pretty much just there to show his face. He had fallen asleep (again) during the meeting, but in a way it just helped him, as it made it easier to believe his playboy image, imagining him out with women and such most (or all) of the night.

That was a much more pleasant thought that what he actually did and he did all he could to perpetuate the idea that he was just a billionaire playboy who was a bit airheaded, vain and did little to no work (other than charity work--but most of the rich folk in Gotham held fundraisers so he wasn't likely to be singled out on that.)

After saying a hasty goodbye to Lucius, as the sun had started to set, he made his leave and headed in his car back to his Penthouse. The only thoughts he had on the road were of the Joker; where had the man gone? Even at his most sneaky, Bruce had always managed to find him, or at least a clue to him, within a short period of time. But this...it was as if the clown prince had just vanished off the face of the earth.

It irritated him to no end that he was continuing to fail to find the man. It only served to fuel his anger and it was starting to affect him outside of Batman and into Bruce's life and dealings. During his patrols of the city, he had become more ruthless and sometimes only barely managed to hold himself back from the final blow upon a person. He refused to become that person. He had fought Ra's Al Ghul over it and he wouldn't let it get to him now. If he did those things, then what would seperate him from the Joker?

He shakes his head. A lot more things that that made him different than _that_ madman! How could he be thinking a long those lines? He and the Joker were different in so many different ways--

_You. Complete. ME._

Yeah, right...

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Alfred greeted him at the door, taking his coat from him.

"You better hurry and get ready, Master Wayne. You don't have much more time left to spare."

When Bruce just looks at him blankly, Alfred lets out a little sigh.

"The fundraiser at the new club downtown, Master Wayne; the Blue Note. You were invited by the Mayor himself, it wouldn't look too good to turn down _that_ invitation. Even for Bruce Wayne."

Bruce sighs. He had forgotten completely about the damned fundraiser. Having been so focused (damn near obsessed) on finding the Joker, he had forgotten about pretty much what other little things must be done.

"I can't see why I can't just skip these things for once," he muttered, walking down the hallway with Alfred following him.

"Well, sir, it comes with being who you are; you know that better than almost anyone. It's one thing to be rich, or very rich, but you are Bruce Wayne. People expect something out of you...even if they don't see the real you."

"Sometimes I just get so tired of these damned things." He loosens his tie and nods a goodbye to Alfred, heading through his bedroom into his master bathroom; the size of this room alone was gigantic. He removes his clothes and steps into the shower, letting out a groan of relief as the hot water hits his weary body. Finally a respite, albeit brief, from everything. Quickly enough he starts to absently scrub his body, his mind falling back on the man he had been unable to find after all of this time.

There had to be something he was missing; something that he wasn't seeing. He just had to be better, was all, stronger, faster, smarter. He wouldn't let the Joker get away. He could just picture the man now, wavy green hair that looked as if it hadn't gotten a good cleaning lately, roots still hinting at his true color. Was there even a real man underneath all that makeup, knives and laughter? And if so...was there more to it that he wasn't seeing?

His hands travel lower as his thoughts drift away, unaware as they start to travel further down his body.

Tailored clothes when he didn't care about money or possessions, but wanted to make an impression. To show the world...

The sights and sounds around Bruce drift away; his thoughts filled with his obsession; there were no other words for what it could be...

He wasn't muscular, the Joker, but his body was lithe and held a wiry strength that misled you, thinking it was weaker than it truly was. He could still feel the man's presense so close to him, even now...

It was only when his hands started to stroke his burgeoning arousal, precome already dripping from the tip, does his eyes pop open and he looks down at himself in horror.

"No, no," he murmurs, shaking his head, water dripping everywhere as he turns the shower off. " _Fuck_ no. It wasn't--it was only--"

He felt sick.

 _Harboring lusty feelings for the man who killed the woman you loved and who broke down the best man that ever happened to Gotham?_ his inner voice sneered. _How quaint._

_Oh god. I'm not. I'm not, I'm not, I'm **NOT** \--_

His fist strikes the wall in front of him and he watches the blood drip from his knuckles down onto the tile.

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Alfred gives him a funny look as he heads towards the door.

"Is everything all right, Master Wayne?"

Bruce just shakes his head, still disgusted with himself on so many levels. The older gentlemen looks at the young man he thought of as a son in worry, but before he could speak again, a sudden loud noise from the television catches both of their attentions.

"--I repeat; the Fulsom Prison has just been part of an explosion led by the Joker, whose whereabouts have been unknown for days--"

Bruce races over to the television, not noticing the alarmed look from Alfred and looks at the large screen. The newswoman on the screen speaks again, looking agitated.

"We have just received feed from the Fulsom Prison; the Joker has demanded to speak and we will be now feeding you footage from the Prison."

The television goes static-y for a moment before fading to black. His laughter was the first thing that Bruce heard, making him suck in a breath, before moving to the front of the camera, smiling from ear to ear.

"Aha! Hel-ll-oo Gotham!" The Joker cackled. "Did you miss me? Did you just _pine_ while I was away? Well never fear; the Clown Prince is back and ready to shove all of your faces into the chaos of the world!"

He looked the same as ever, and he twirls a knife in his hand, looking pleased with himself. From somewhere around the criminal, muffled screams could be heard. The room itself that the Joker was standing in was very dark and Bruce could not really make out anything in the room, other than the man, startling colors and all.

"Oh, and most of all, I hope that _you_ missed me, Batsy," his lips move to a pout. "I missed _you_. It's not the same without you; fighting you, talking to you--you really _do_ complete me, like _I_ complete _you_." He grins again. He starts to walk around, glancing at the camera as he does so. "Turn around, idiot!" He barks, seemingly unable to help himself. As the camera turns around, Bruce gets a view of several men and women kneeling on the ground, blindfolded and gagged, which where the muffled screaming had been come from.

"Now... _why_ you say, would I break into a prison to tie up some prisoners? Because _I_ didn't, moron! Ha ha oh ho ho ha ha!" The Joker giggles, jumping around the tied up people. He stops besides a long haired brunette woman who stiffens in fear as he touches the side of her face with his knife. "Ah ah. Shhh, shhh," he rubs his knife against the woman's face, only increasing her fear and muffled screams. "You're alright...for now anyway." He appeals to the camera again, face looking more intent than ever. "It's all up to the Bats."

Bruce's eyes widen as he could only guess at the implications of what the Harlequin of Hate was not saying.

"Batsy, I want to be able to say to you--I blew the roof off a prison once, I knocked the walls down, so I could look at the stars. They're looking kind of nice--like the ones I see when you hit me! Ha ha! Why can't I make you go away?" He frowns for a moment. "Why can't I make you go away from all of these people? To see the truth...no...you _know_ the truth, but you refuse to give into it. Into _me_. I _hate_ it! Hate! Hate! Hate!" He jumps at each 'hate'. "These people are stupid and blind, refusing to see how chaos rules this world, so I show it to them, give them the chaos. I am an agent of chaos; I surely made Harvey Dent see that." He grins again, going on his own tangent, not following a single thought, but weaving here and there into his own.

"Here's the deal..." He starts to walk around the bound people, his knife moving over their shivering bodies, not even paying attention to see if he was doing any damage, too focused on the cameras. "I'm going to give you, _you_ Batsy, one hour to get to this place and for the cops who I _know_ are on their way, to get the hell away from it; if I get even one _whiff_ of stale donuts and coffee, all of these people are on their way down...down...down!" He starts to turn away from the cameras before turning back abruptly. "Oh, and I'll blow up the prison too, so hurry, hurry _, hurry_!"

As it had made the man's entrance, his laughter made his exit and the picture fades to black.

Bruce was on his feet before he even realized it, turning to look at Alfred who nods, no words were needed. He races through the hallway, footsteps echoing upon the floor as he heads to his secret panel, opening it with a touch and entering inside. As he removes his clothing to put on the batsuit, as it had been earlier, his mind moves once more to the Joker.

As sudden as his disappearance, as sudden as his very first appearance in Gotham, the Joker had returned and once more Bruce felt so many feelings overwhelm him at once. He was disgusted with himself on so many levels for what he had felt earlier, more so because he couldn't lie to himself about it.

His eyes close before he puts on the mask, letting his mind move from Bruce Wayne, through the dark to where Batman lived. His eyes open; it was much easier to deal with such feelings and emotions when he was Batman and this new realization was just a layer that added to the darkness of the bat; he would deal with it as necessary, but for now...he had people to save.

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I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought of this!

\--PhoenixJustice


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